


Won't give in to the fear (The water is crystal clear)

by targaryen_melodrama



Series: Where the heart is [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/targaryen_melodrama/pseuds/targaryen_melodrama
Summary: The sound of food sizzling in a pan hits Steve half a second after the smell of spices does, and his smile widens as he closes the door of their apartment behind him.The sight of Sam in his most casual wear, putting a wooden spoon in the sink and pulling out a pasta strainer makes Steve’s heart race almost as hard as it had on his run.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: Where the heart is [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741597
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Won't give in to the fear (The water is crystal clear)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to MajorMinor for letting me waste her time when I was trying to find a song that could fit. 
> 
> Not beta'ed feel free to point out typos, etc.

The sound of food sizzling in a pan hits Steve half a second after the smell of spices does, and his smile widens as he closes the door of their apartment behind him. He toes off his sneakers and neatly places them next Sam’s—a habit he’d finally gotten into when Sam came back from the soul stone, one that Sam doesn’t think will last more than three months, and one Steve is determined to keep. Fifty dollars and a foot rub are on the line. 

After hanging his keys on their designated hook and plugging in his phone, Steve’s ready to slip into the bathroom and shower off his sweat when he hears music coming from the kitchen. 

It’s a song he doesn’t recognize—a woman singing about not giving in to fear. He’s still in front of the bathroom when his enhanced hearing lets him pick up Sam’s voice switching back and forth between the main melody and harmonies. Steve’s halfway through the long hallway that leads to their kitchen before he realizes he moved. 

“Dinner’ll be ready in ten, can you—you haven’t showered yet, have you?”

Even with his nose wrinkled the way it currently is, Sam is...breathtaking. His old t-shirt is slightly stretched at the shoulders (Steve’s fault) and has a small tomato sauce stain that Sam is going to be annoyed by later. His track pants are clinging to his thighs, ready to burst at the seams (Sam’s fault—he stole them from Natasha) and though Steve can’t see it from where he stands, he knows Sam is wearing the slippers Steve got him years ago. 

The sight of Sam in his most casual wear, putting a wooden spoon in the sink and pulling out a pasta strainer makes Steve’s heart race almost as hard as it had on his run. 

Sam’s here. Sam’s cooking, frowning down at the pot full of the store-bought sauce he loves to complain about yet keeps buying. Sam’s tasting the fusilli and nodding slowly, moving the pot off the burner. 

Sam’s here. He’s home. 

_So am I_.

“There a world emergency I’m not aware of?”

“Huh?”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You came in here right after your jog without showering, and you’ve been staring at me for a minute now.”

“Sorry.”

Sam’s face softens. “Nothing to be sorry for. Here,” he says, placing a spoonful of sauce on a small plate, “let me know if something’s missing. It’s decent—as much as it can be—but I feel like something’s off.”

He’d had no intention to linger here, he’d only wanted to watch Sam putter around and sing for a minute, but Steve nods and walks fully in the kitchen. Instead of tasting the sauce, Steve checks that the burners are turned off—they both are—before walking to Sam and wrapping his arms around his waist. He kisses Sam’s temple and his chin, then Sam’s neck.

“Baby?”

Sam sounds worried, which is the last thing Steve wants right now.

“I’m fine. Promise,” he says against Sam’s neck. 

He _is_ fine. 

Or, well, he will be. In a few weeks, a few months maybe, when holding Sam stops feeling brand new and familiar all at once. When Steve can lie in bed next to Sam after they’ve made love without trying to memorize every sound and every sigh and every gasp in case it’s their last time, and he can let himself drift to a hopefully dreamless sleep. When Sam’s soft, clear voice doesn’t get Steve rushing over to the kitchen to make sure he can witness something that happens multiple times a day. 

Sam hums, runs his fingers lightly over Steve’s arms. “I love you. I’m here.”

The quiet words and gentle touch pull Steve out of his spiral. 

That’s all he can ask for, really. All he wants. “I know. I love you too. I’m just glad to be home. Glad to have you here.”

Sam turns in Steve’s arms and brings his hand to Steve’s cheek. His deep brown eyes are warm and clear, and Steve sinks back into the present—and into Sam—just a little further. “No place I’d rather be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Crystal Clear by Hayley Williams. 
> 
> I am on [Tumblr](http://targaryenmelodrama.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/andrea_b_tweets) !


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